A working man, all the world over, asks but justice and a little relaxation--just a collar of fat to his lean.
Mr.Caddis, M.P., pursuing the riddle of popularity, which irritated and repelled as constantly as it attracted him, would have come nearer to an instructive presentment of it, by listening to these plain fellows, than he was in the line of equipages, at a later hour of the day.

The remarks of the comfortably cushioned and wheeled, though they be eulogistic to extravagance, are vapourish when we court them for nourishment; substantially, they are bones to the cynical.

He heard enumerations of Mr.Radnor's riches, eclipsing his own past compute.

A merchant, a holder of mines, Director of a mighty Bank, projector of running rails, a princely millionaire, and determined to be popular--what was the aim of the man?
It is the curse of modern times, that we never can be sure of our Parliamentary seat; not when we have it in our pockets! The Romans have left us golden words with regard to the fickleness of the populace; we have our Horace, our Juvenal, we have our Johnson; and in this vaunted age of reason it is, that we surrender ourselves into the hands of the populace! Panem et circenses! Mr.Caddis repeated it, after his fathers; his fathers and he had not headed them out of that original voracity.

There they were, for moneyed legislators to bewail their appetites.